


Bits and Pieces

by Medeafic



Series: Supernova [12]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Biting, M/M, Rimming, Roughhousing, Sado-Masochism, Sleepy Sex, mentions of blood/bloodplay and bondage in an acting environment, mentions of controlling behavior, vague D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-22
Updated: 2011-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:52:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris has lunch with Corey and Neal, and returns to LA.  Zach comes to see The Lieutenant of Inishmore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bits and Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Very special thanks to LJer my_badgers_27 , who not only put up with my demanding questions about Inishmore in chat one night, but went over it all again patiently with me in PMs.

_I’m leaving tomorrow, Zach, and I wonder if you’ve really thought about the drop._

_I’m leaving tomorrow. It’ll be a while before we can play again._

_Tomorrow, I’m leaving. The flight is too early and I’m going to make you stay here rather than see me off. And don’t argue. You have that party tonight, anyway. You’ll be tired._

_(You sure like your parties, Zach. If I went out that much, it would make me want to kill other people.)_

_I’m leaving tomorrow, but we’ll be okay.  
_

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” Zach says mournfully. Chris has come back to bed an hour after waking too early, and writing in his journal to pass the time. He was reluctant to stir Zach, who often sleeps poorly, and for once looked practically comatose.

“Yeah. It sucks.”

“It does. I wish you could stay.”

“Me, too.”

“If I asked you to stay, would –”

“Zach, I think it’s better if we just don’t go there.” Chris doesn’t trust himself. “It is what it is. We’ll see each other again soon. And we still have today, so let’s forget about tomorrow.”

Zach loudly sighs and yawns in a showy exhibition of his displeasure and resignation. “What about tonight? Will you come out with me?”

Chris thinks it over. He already has to go to lunch with Corey and Neal. Another party might just kill him. “I’d prefer not to, if that’s alright. I need some time alone. I need to recharge.”

“But it’s your last night! And coming out with me is the perfect way to recharge!”

Chris is glad that Zach can’t see the horror cross his face, pressed into the pillow. The thought of standing in a roomful of people tonight, making small talk and pretending to be Just Friends with Zach, is his idea of hell. “I don’t recharge that way,” he says. “I need to be alone, away from other people.”

“Even from me?”

Chris smiles. “Is that what this is about?”

“Sometimes it feels like you want to get away from me.”

It’s not that he wants to escape, or that he doesn’t want to spend time with Zach – particularly now, when they’re both hyper-aware of the diminishing moments – but Chris also needs time to just _be_ ; time to himself and time to recover mentally. Zach has been so intense over the last few days that Chris has found himself needing it even more than usual.

“I don’t want to get away from anything,” he tells Zach. “And especially not you. But I need time _for_ me.”

“Are you always like that? In relationships, I mean. Were you like that before?”

“Sure. Beau called it my man-cave time or something; I forget exactly. I think she read too much pop-psychology.” The memory amuses him, but Chris is surprised that Zach asked. He rarely mentions Chris’s past relationships. Chris has always wondered if it’s because he used to only date women; perhaps Zach feels like he can’t relate.

Or maybe it’s just normal behavior. Zach is fiercely monogamous, after all. And it’s not like talking about exes has ever proved beneficial to Chris in the past.

“Okay,” Zach is saying. “I’ll let you have some cave time, and we can do something after I get back. I won’t stay out too late. As for this morning…” Zach searches through the nightstand for something and then brings out a scrap of newspaper. “Perhaps we can deal with this issue.”

It’s torn from the newspaper on which Zach kept scoring Chris’s mistakes. The original fifteen are scribbled out, but there are another twelve or so racked up.

“What are _they_ for?” Chris demands.

“I could tell you each and every one if you like. Or you can just trust me.” He smirks.

“I thought we were having fun from now on,” Chris says weakly.

“This _will_ be fun.” And Zach looks so pleased with himself that it’s impossible not to give in.

“Fine. Cane again?”

“No.”

“Crop?”

“Nope.”

Chris frowns. Zach smoothes out the crease between his eyebrows, and says, “Sometimes I just want to eat you all up. Like this.” Slowly, he drops his head to Chris’s chest and Chris feels Zach’s mouth open wide over his heart; teeth drag over his skin and close together almost gently – almost, except for the sharp nip at the end. “I love it when you yelp like that,” Zach says, his lips moving against what Chris knows will be a small but angry mark later in the day. “I know you have things coming up, but I’ll be careful, so careful for you Christopher, and the bruising will disappear in just a few days. Maybe even by the time you hit LAX.”

“Disappear, huh? Like magic?” But Chris smiles, reaches up to run a thumb over Zach’s lips. Zach captures it between his teeth and bites down gently before releasing it.

“Like magic.”

“Alright, then. I trust you.”

“I think you’ll like this,” Zach says happily.

Zach is right. He takes his time, biting with wide, tender pressure, and there’s no pain until he pinches a tiny fold of skin between his teeth. It’s almost relaxing, Chris finds, like a massage, if it weren’t for the shooting sting at the very end. Zach moves him around with strong, resolute hands, bringing parts of Chris up to his mouth as he likes, biting into him with deliberation and enjoyment. Chris finds himself half-hanging off the bed, or caught between Zach’s thighs, eyeing his erection, and giggling helplessly in between appreciative gasps.

“That’s twelve,” Zach says, sitting up against the pillow, and Chris groans in frustration. “You want more? I can give you more.”

“Yes, please,” Chris says immediately. Zach hasn’t even gotten around to biting his ass yet, and that, Chris knows from experience, feels _amazing_. “Yeah,” he sighs, as Zach obligingly pulls him by the hips, turns him on his hands and knees so that he’s positioned over Zach’s body. Zach sinks teeth into his flesh, where his thigh meets his butt, right over what Chris knows is a now-purple bruise from the caning. But it’s as careful as promised, and Zach doesn’t even nip this time. Chris feels the pain as a dull throb, ebbing through him like a tide and making his cock drip with anticipation.

Zach takes his time, biting gently into his ass again and again like it’s an oversized candy apple, until Chris is pleading for more. And Zach obliges with a wicked, gluttonous noise, stabbing his tongue insistently into him, and reaching around to pull at his cock. It takes about thirty seconds before Chris comes, almost crying, which embarrasses him after he regains his breath.

“You love that like oxygen,” Zach says.

“What does that even _mean_?” But Chris laughs. He’s fallen forward, his face smashed into Zach’s calf. Hairs are tickling his nose, but he doesn’t care.

“Are you gonna get up so I can fuck you?”

“No. Comfy.”

“Hey – we’re still in the trial period, you know. You’re supposed to do whatever I tell you.” But Zach is just teasing.

“That’s true. It’s very disobedient of me. You could punish me some more?” Chris suggests, smiling into the sheets.

Zach rolls him off and climbs on top of him. “How do you punish a masochist?” he asks.

“By rimming them, apparently.”

“No, it’s a _joke_.”

“Oh. I don’t know, Zach, how _do_ you punish a masochist?”

“Cover them in bubble wrap.”

“That’s a _terrible_ joke.”

“Yeah,” Zach agrees. “The community can be pretty corny. Come on, move your ass so I can fuck it.”

“Romance is dead,” Chris sighs, but moves into position. In the back of his mind, though, he wonders about Zach and his community, the people who taught him, trained him, the people he was friends with before he stopped going to clubs. Wonders if he misses it, if he misses the people in that community, who tell unfunny jokes and teach each other how to hurt people safely.

“We should go to a club sometime,” he says, as Zach steadies himself between his legs.

“What? Why?”

“I’d like to meet them. The people you knew. And maybe…I could talk to some of them. People who are like me.”

Zach frowns. “I don’t know. If we got photographed –” He sinks inside Chris with a stifled curse. “You weren’t wrong the other night, Christopher, this _does_ feel like heaven. If we got photographed, your publicist would probably go nuclear. Besides, you have _me_ to talk to.”

 _But you are not like me_ , Chris wants to say, but he lets it go. There’s no point arguing about it, not when Zach is fucking him so expertly that he feels his own spent cock responding. Zach shoots quickly, but afterwards he pulls Chris tightly into his arms and takes his time working him to a second orgasm, smiling in pleasure, telling him how good he is.

  
***

  
When Chris arrives at Corey’s place for lunch, he takes a moment to steel himself before he hits the buzzer. But before he even has a chance to start a mental pep-talk, there’s a crackle on the communicator.

“Hey, man! Neal saw your taxi pull up. Come on in.” There’s a long buzz, and Chris pushes open the door.

The apartment is only on the first floor, but he takes his time walking up. By the time he gets there, Corey is waiting for him with the door open, waving him frantically inside.

“Get a move on, or Neal will eat all the pizza. I got it from this great place down on–” Corey disappears inside, still talking, and Chris follows.

It’s fine, really, Chris discovers. Once he realizes that this is just another social occasion, rather than an intensive grilling by Zach’s best friends, he tries to relax more. But he finds it difficult not to search each phrase for double meaning, and struggles to keep track of the conversation when Neal and Corey slip into discussions about people he doesn’t know. They have several beers each, which doesn’t help Chris’s concentration. Eventually, Corey reaches out a lazy foot and kicks him under the coffee table.

“Dude, you’re so twitchy. What’s the deal?”

Chris starts. “Sorry, what?”

Corey smiles. “We boring you?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“Cause you know, we’re well aware that Zach is much more interesting.” Chris watches him for signs of irony or maybe even jealousy, but it’s just teasing. _They’re just trying to include you_ , he tells himself. _Stop being so suspicious._

“Well, yeah,” he says. “But I’m making do. You’re mildly entertaining. Neal is better.”

Corey pretends outrage while Neal chokes on his drink from laughing too hard. “A man of wisdom,” he manages to wheeze.

“Fuck you both,” Corey says, grinning. “And here’s to a boyfriend we can actually get along with.” They all clink bottles, and then Chris can’t stop himself.

“What does that even mean?”

“Don’t,” Neal says immediately to Corey. “Come on, man. We agreed. Sacred head slapping and all.”

“We’ll have to show you that,” Corey tells Chris. “It’s our thing. A binding code.”

“A _painfully_ binding code,” Neal agrees.

Chris wonders idly if that’s what Zach likes about it. “So initiate me. Now.”

Corey and Neal look at each other seriously, and stand up. “Is he really ready for it?” Neal asks.

“I think so.”

They turn in tandem and slam the heels of their hands into Chris’s forehead. “Fuck!” Chris snaps, but laughs.

“Took it like a man,” Corey says approvingly. “Better than Zach ever does, anyway. Alright. We’ll spill. But you have to promise, on pain of repeated head slappings, never to tell Zach that we told you this, because he’d have an epic sulk. Also, you should probably know up front, we hardly have any dirt on him. Well, except for some college stories involving too much black sambuca, but really, who doesn’t have a similar tale to tell?”

“You just gave me a concussion for the bare minimum?” Neal and Corey shout in triumph, and Chris backtracks. “Not concussion! Hardly even a tap!”

Neal finishes coughing beer and nods. “Okay, fair trade. We just meant that Zach’s previous interests have been…” He looks to Corey for help as they both slump back into their seats.

“Annoying.”

“Or boring.”

“Or fucking _embarrassing_ , man, remember –”

“ _No_ ,” Neal says decisively. “I do _not_ remember that. I drank enough afterwards to blot out all memories.” Chris raises an inquiring eyebrow, and Corey snorts.

“Don’t believe his lies for a second, Pine. He loves telling this story.”

Neal leans forward in his seat immediately, his face alight with glee. “This was years ago now, but it was the most excrutiating fucking dinner of my entire life. So, picture it. We’re meeting for dinner, me, Corey, Zach and the new boyfriend. He always does this thing where he takes the new kid to see us, like a test or something.”

“You passed, by the way,” Corey interjects.

“We have no idea why he does it, still don’t. Like we have better taste in men than he does?”

“Well, _I_ do. I’m an objective connoisseur. Appreciative, but uninvolved.”

“Fuck you,” Neal tells Corey offhandedly. “It’s _my_ opinion that counts. So – we’re meeting for dinner, in some godawful restaurant in LA that Zach is excited about.”

“They were serving kangaroo carpaccio. It was _really_ –”

“Dude, will you shut up? So Zach comes in, looking exhausted. Like he hasn’t slept for three days. I mean, so fucking exhausted, his eyebrows are growing together, and you better believe he keeps those motherfuckers under control.” Corey opens his mouth and Neal glares. “ _So_ ,” he continues pointedly, “his new twonk –”

“Twink,” Chris and Corey say in unison.

“Twonk, twink, whatever. His new _boyfriend_ is this scrawny kid. Zach told us later he was older than him, but I don’t know, he looked…”

“Not like you,” Corey says helpfully to Chris. “Not that I’m hitting on you.” Chris flips him the bird, and Corey laughs uproariously.

“He looks like some rich kid trying to look homeless,” Neal says loudly over the noise. “And we’re thinking, you know, whatever. It’s Zach. He has terrible taste in men, so this kid isn’t even the worst. But, oh, God.” Neal closes his eyes, remembering, and Corey snickers. “The kid hands his menu to Zach and says, ‘What am I allowed to have, Zach?’ And we’re all, come on, now. The hell? And then the kid asks Zach what he’s allowed to drink, and then whether Zach wants to _feed_ him, and Corey and I are sending _Shut him up, shut him up!_ vibes at Zach, but he won’t even look at us.”

Chris feels his heart freeze in his chest, but keeps smiling, laughing.

“Z-man likes his kink,” Corey says affectionately. “But he keeps it on the downlow, usually. Or thinks he does.”

“And Zach, _Christ_ , I thought he was going to stab someone with a fork. And _then_ –” Neal pauses dramatically. Chris struggles to keep his smile a smile and not a grimace, and wonders what’s coming. “ _Then_ , the bastard mutters something and takes off for the bathroom and _leaves_ us there. With this kid. Who blinks at us, and we try to talk to him and–”

“He says, ‘I shouldn’t talk when Zach’s not here,’” Corey giggles. “It was _awful_. Zach’s fucking around in the bathroom –”

“Not literally.”

“Not that we know, anyway. And we’re staring at each other, wondering whether to laugh or cry, and the kid’s staring at his hands, and _goddamn_. It was like that all night.”

“Worst boyfriend _ever_.”

“I don’t know. Adam sucked balls.”

“Yeah, and probably very well, which is why Zach was so crazy about him.”

“You’re _much_ better.” Corey tips his beer towards Chris. “I mean – not at ball-sucking. I have no idea about that.” He grins. “I’m just fucking with you man, don’t have any desire to know what you and Zach do. So you can stop looking so freaked.”

“I’m not freaked. Okay, maybe I am. Just –”

“We made a classic mistake, Moosa,” Neal drawls. “ _Never_ bring up the exes with the newbie. And _definitely_ don’t bring up ball-sucking.”

Corey, surprisingly, looks perturbed. “Sorry, Pine,” he says. “Probably went too far for the first date, huh?”

Chris raises his eyebrows. “First date?”

Corey and Neal grin sheepishly at each other, and – is that _embarrassment_ in their eyes? Chris wonders.

“We like you,” Neal says, shrugging. “You’re the first guy Zach’s dated for a _long_ time that we’ve found tolerable.”

“ _More_ than tolerable,” Corey says accusingly.

“Definitely more than tolerable,” Neal concedes. “You have our seal of approval.”

“Thanks, I guess?” Chris laughs.

After the pizzas are finished, Chris helps Corey take myriad empty beer bottles out to the recycling in the alley, while Neal dozes contentedly on the couch.

“See, now I like you even more – helping take out the trash, that’s what real friends do. Not eat more than their share of pizza and then drool all over the sofa.” Corey dusts off his hands and looks up at the hazy sky, shading his eyes against the weak sunlight. “It’s gonna be cold this winter. I think I’ll try to head back to LA for it. We should catch up there if I do.”

“Yeah.” Chris smiles. “We should.”

“So,” Corey says, looking nervous, and Chris thinks, _Oh, shit. Here it comes. And you thought you were safe._ “Tell me to butt out, but I was just wondering how Zach’s doing. He’s busy all the time, you know how it is, so I don’t get to see him as much as I’d like. Is he – happy?”

“Sure. He’s happy.”

“And you guys are tight?”

Chris tipsily considers making a vulgar joke about just how tight Zach felt the other night, but decides it’s probably inappropriate at this juncture. “We’re good,” he says instead. “Zach’s happy. I mean – we’re still figuring out some stuff, finding what we’re comfortable with.” He stops, wondering if he’s said too much, but Corey nods.

“Yeah, I get that. Must be hard, knowing you have to work with the guy. Office romances can be tough.”

 _Is that what this is?_ Chris wonders. He’s hasn’t thought of it that way for a long time. It’s been so long since they filmed _Trek_ , and the next film doesn’t have a confirmed start date yet. Still – Corey’s right. They’ll be working together. _Acting_ together. Chris thinks again about being _just a movie star_ and feels a twinge of anger. _Get over it_ , he tells himself. “You ask how we’re doing a lot,” he says to Corey.

Corey laughs. “Can’t mind my own fucking business. But seriously – I just wanna make sure things are smooth for you both. You’re – you’re really good for him,” he says awkwardly. “He’s never really had a long term thing before, so Neal and I, we’re hoping it’ll last. He can be difficult sometimes, I know. I mean, guy’s incredible, and funny, and smart, and loyal as hell, but I want to drown him sometimes, when he gets in those _moods_. I guess we just worry about him.”

“So do I,” Chris admits. “Sometimes, he’s…I don’t know.”

“Dangerous?” Corey isn’t joking for once, and his eyes are kind.

“It’s a little bit like loving a shark,” Chris agrees.

“Just don’t cut yourself, I guess.” Corey grins.

 _I’m not allowed to_ , Chris wants to say, but he thinks about Zach’s twink, and Corey and Neal’s reactions, and smiles faintly instead.

Corey stretches his arms up, cracking his shoulder joints, and says casually, “Since we’re pretty much braiding each other’s hair now, can I ask a favor?” Chris nods. “If things go bad, like you hit a rough patch or something, give us a heads up? Because Zach does this thing where he retreats like an animal to lick his wounds and it just gets all…He never tells us. And he does better if he’s around people when he gets like that.”

“Uh,” Chris says.

“I know. I’m stretching the friendship.”

“It’s cool.” It’s not, not really. But what else can he say? Besides, things aren’t going to go bad. “I’ll let you guys know.”

  
***

  
Zach arrives back relatively early that night, but Chris is already in bed, studying his lines for _The Lieutenant of Inishmore_. He has an early start, although he’s resigned to not getting much sleep. His bag is packed and ready to go, and Zach stops to look at it sadly.

“You got everything from the hotel?”

“Yeah, I dropped by this afternoon. Checked out.”

“How was lunch?”

“Good. I had fun. Found out that Neal snores really loudly when he naps. Corey wanted to put cheetos up his nose, but I stopped him.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t end well.” Zach chuckles and starts undressing for bed. “Did you guys talk about me?”

“We talked some,” Chris says cautiously. “Corey’s pretty protective of you.”

“I know. It’s like he thinks I’m some naïf.”

“Little does he know.”

“They’re good to me, though. I’m lucky to have them.”

Chris debates whether he should ask, but he’s too curious not to. “Do they know much about what you do? I mean, you know. The sex stuff?”

Zach shakes his head. “I try not to bring it up too much. I have no desire to know what they’re doing in bed, so I figure they would prefer not to know about me either. I think they’ve guessed some stuff, but I try to keep things…separate.”

“Compartmentalized.”

“Yes. It’s better that way.”

And Chris thinks that Zach is probably right. Keeping things in neat boxes seems to work best for Zach – if nothing else, the 24/7 trial has convinced Chris of that.

Zach slides into bed next to him and pulls him close. “I’m dreading not having you here every day. I thought about coming back again. To LA.”

“It won’t be for long,” Chris says, but it’s unconvincing to his own ears.

“Tell you what. I have an audition for a play coming up. If I don’t get the part, screw it, I’ll just come back to LA after the _Margin Call_ shoot. I’m tired of being away from you.”

“But you love New York.”

“New York doesn’t let me make it cry. Or fuck it in the ass; not regularly, anyway.”

Chris smiles. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. I really want this part, but I think…I think they’ll probably take one look at me, see Spock, Sylar, and that’ll be that.” He doesn’t sound cut up about it, just very mildly irritated.

“What’s the play?”

“ _Angels in America_. There’s a Kushner revival season.”

“Huh. That’s supposed to be a good one.”

“It is. I’m going out for Louis. I don’t know if they’ll like my take on the character, though.”

“I hope you get it,” Chris tells him, although he really doesn’t. What he hopes for, selfishly, is that Zach will come back to LA and never leave again.

And after that, Zach starts kissing him and touching him and tells him to be quiet, and things become a bit blurry. It’s only just before he falls asleep that he realizes – he went into subspace. So quickly and so easily that it was just like flicking a switch.

Zach sighs, _I love you I love you_ , over and over again into his hair as Chris slides into dreams.

  
***

  
In the morning, after only a few hours of sleep, Chris wakes to Zach’s mouth on his cock. Zach says indistinctly, “You said I could,” around it when Chris makes a _what the fuck_ noise, and then lifts his head to clarify. “We agreed at the start, no waking up in pain, but you said I could do sex stuff.”

Chris starts laughing. “I’m not complaining, I’m just surprised. _Good_ surprised.” He gives an enormous yawn and then settles back to enjoy. Afterwards, Zach lies on top of him, wrapping around him like a comforter and holds Chris down by the wrists. He fucks into him slowly, looking into his face with intense concentration, until Chris can see that he’s close.

“Can I watch again?” Chris asks hopefully.

But Zach shakes his head briefly. “Not this time.” He bites instead, firmly, and Chris feels the disappointment flooding away, replaced with the sensation of blunt teeth forced determinedly into his shoulder.

“There will never be anything that feels the same,” he murmurs, while Zach pants into his neck.

Zach says something, muffled, and Chris has to ask him to repeat it.

“I said, you’re free.”

“Free?”

“The trial is done. You’re free. Free of me.”

“Mmm.” They’re done? Didn’t feel much different to normal by the end. “I don’t want to be free of you. Not so much.”

“Really?” Zach perks up, and Chris bites his lip. “Because I was doing some thinking.” _Pine, learn to shut your mouth._ “Some of the stuff we did wasn’t great. It wasn’t fun. But there was some stuff that I really liked, that I thought maybe, you know…”

“Stuff like what?” Chris asks suspiciously. If the words _soaked cane_ leave Zach’s lips, he’s safe-wording. Immediately.

“You can’t guess?” Zach smiles a little. “The journaling. I love it. I feel like I’m seeing spaces inside you that I don’t get to see, not normally. Maybe they _are_ just bits, but they’re still bits of _you_. That’s what counts.”

“But what do you want me to journal about?”

“Your fantasies. What you think about. Me. And you. Us.”

“Every day?” It sounds like a lot of work, especially considering he’s going to be working hard on _Inishmore_ soon.

“Not every day. But – at least a few times a week.” Zach looks so incredibly hopeful that it would be like kicking a puppy to say no, and it doesn’t make much difference to him really, so Chris nods.

“Okay. If that’ll make you happy, I’ll do it. When are you going to read it, though?”

“When I come over there, or you come back here,” Zach says blissfully. There are no problems as far as he’s concerned.

“Anything else?”

Zach shifts in the bed, and his nervous energy is catching. “I think we found out that 24/7 isn’t going to work for us. Right?”

“Right.”

“But maybe sometimes, just for a day or two, we could – well –”

“24/2 it?” Chris suggests, grinning. Zach laughs. “Alright. Just for a day or two. But _promise_ me you won’t send me looking for your phone again.”

“I promise. That was pretty mean.”

“Yeah, it was. But I forgive you.”

Zach fidgets, and Chris waits for him to speak. “I have to tell you something. I’m thinking of going back to therapy, just for a while. Just to work out some stuff.”

“Oh.” Chris is surprised. “Well, okay. If you think you should. Are you…” There’s no real way to end the sentence. “If you think you need to, that’s – that’s good.”

“I just think it might help. I never really –” He breaks off, chewing on his fingernail in an anxious, childish gesture that makes Chris’s heart jump. “Okay: Honesty Policy. Therapy was never great for me before. I used to quit when things got too close. I used to get scared.”

Chris keeps his mouth closed, although he wants to tease Zach about being scared of _himself_.

“And sometimes the therapists, _they_ got scared,” Zach says in a rush. “And that didn’t help much. I mean, they never said anything – well, except _one_ – but I could see it in their faces, the fear.” If anyone could recognize fear, Chris thinks, it’s Zach. “And when I saw that, I had to stop. You know?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“But I feel like now, now that I have you, I won’t get so scared. I feel _complete_ now.”

“Complete?”

“Yeah.” Zach smiles, almost shy. “I feel like I’m whole now. Before, I guess I felt like I wasn’t a full person.”

“But Zach,” Chris says before he can stop himself, “you shouldn’t need another person to feel whole. That’s not what relationships are for.”

Zach frowns. “What do you mean?”

 _Careful, Pine._ He takes a few seconds to arrange his thoughts. “Really healthy relationships, _good_ relationships, they can make you feel like more than you are. Like you can do _anything_. And that’s how you make me feel.” Zach begins to look a little happier. “But – I think the best relationships are between people who already feel complete in themselves. Because if you need someone else to make you whole, it can get twisted. Dependent. I’m not saying that’s what’s happening with us,” he adds hurriedly. “But being dependent isn’t a good thing. Just in general. It’s better if we’re _both_ complete.” _You started well and finished with a whimper. Bravo._

“Well, that’s why I’m going to therapy,” Zach says stiffly.

“Yeah, no, I get that. It’s good. It’s great!”

“And I don’t agree, anyway. I’ve never felt better than I do with you. You make me feel…” He’s lost for words. “New,” he says eventually. “Full of potential. Like a sunrise. Fuck. It’s not coming out right.”

“It’s coming out fine,” Chris says, and kisses him. “And actually, I decided I’m going to see a therapist too.”

“Really?” Zach looks stunned, wary and blank in quick succession. “Why?”

“For _Inishmore_ ,” Chris shrugs. “Just research, really. I want to see what I can add to the play and to the character. I talked to my mom and she said she can recommend someone to me, to talk to about violence. So we can talk about the character.”

“Psychoanalysis as an acting technique, huh? Very Method of you.”

Chris grins. “I’m old school.”

The early morning runs out too quickly, like the sun has decided to sail its course in double time today, just to spite them. Chris writes out the rules again in bold black letters for Zach, and adds to his own list.

  


  


  


**THE RULES**   


**1) Sharpie mark must be re-inked regularly and photographic evidence sent.**

**2) Honesty Policy, despite not being sexy.**

**3) Minimum 5 minute phone call daily (or voicemail). Take turns calling.**

**4) Zach can withhold masturbation privileges from Chris, if he feels like it.**

**5) Fucking yoga, 3 times a week.**

**6) Chris will write in the journal for Zach several times weekly.  
**

****  
  
Zach holds him down to re-mark the ZQ on Chris’s ass, and once it’s there he feels _right_ again. Even, Chris dares to think, complete. “Maybe I’ll get it tattooed,” he says.

“Not without permission, you won’t,” Zach says immediately. “If there are going to be any permanent marks on you, I get a say in it.”

“ _You_ got a tattoo without discussing it!”

“That’s _completely_ different.”

Chris doesn’t bother asking how. He knows. He knows how it’s different, in Zach’s mind at least.

Just before he leaves, when the taxi is honking impatiently outside, Zach presses a folded piece of paper into his hand. “For the drop, if it comes.”

Chris reads it in the taxi. It’s a list of things he can do to help with the drop, and it makes him smile even while his heart aches. _Chocolate. Yoga. 80s pop music. Sleep. Call me, any time, any hour, if you need to, I don’t care if you wake me up. Chai._

But Chris decides he’s going to give the chai a rest for a while. Zach has filled him so full of it here in New York that he could swear he smells spices wafting from his very pores.

  
***

  
The weeks pass so quickly that for Chris, missing Zach becomes a constant throb – always there, but not consciously. When Zach calls, ecstatic, to say he’s won the part in _Angels of America_ , it doesn’t hit him quite as hard as it might, to know that it means Zach is staying in New York. They’ll just have to visit. Often. But Chris is caught up in preparation for _Inishmore_ , rehearsals and discussions and director’s notes, and his research with the therapist his mom suggested, who specializes in violent and aggressive behaviors.

Things are going well in therapy, both for understanding Padraic and understanding himself, although he hasn’t told the therapist anything much about his own experiences, or his relationship with Zach. They focus on Padraic, and violence, and a little on sadism, which also helps Chris understand more about Zach, by proxy.

But in their fourth session, Chris realizes that the therapist, an Englishwoman whose soft accent makes the most gruesome concepts sound rational and understandable, thinks sadomasochism is a mental disorder. It’s like a slap in the face when she brings out a copy of a very official-looking book and shows him the entries.

“They’ve removed it from the new manuals,” she says. “But really, I think it’s best left in. That kind of behavior _is_ abnormal, destructive, and these poor people should be treated for it, either by therapy or medication.”

“ _Medication?_ ”

She shrugs. “Whatever works, Chris. You can’t imagine the sad, broken souls I’ve seen in my time. And you know, Freud made much of it in his development of psychoanalysis.” She takes another book down from the shelf to show him, and Chris reads as her finger drags under the lines.

 _The most common and most significant of all the perversions – the desire to inflict pain upon the sexual object, and its reverse – received from Krafft-Ebbing the names of ‘sadism’ and ‘masochism’ for its active and passive forms respectively._  
  
“But we’ve come a long way since Freud’s time, surely,” Chris says defensively. “Freud thought chicks envied dicks, and that being gay was a perversion too.”

“That’s a large and varied topic,” the therapist says vaguely. “Best stick with the one at hand.”

“What did Jung think about sadomasochism?”

She smiles at the pot plant in the corner. “I believe our time is just about up for today.”

“Actually, I think I’ve got all the information I need for the character,” Chris says coldly. “Thank you for all your help.”

He rants about it to Zach later during their daily phone call, until he runs out of steam.

“Maybe you should back off the therapy,” Zach says, sounding amused.

“I intend to. Jesus. I’m so _mad_ still.”

“Yeah, I can hear that. Why are you putting so much research into this?”

“Because I want to do _well_. I want to be _good_. I want to be _convincing_.”

“You’ll be fine. Besides, I thought the director decided to play up the comedy aspects?”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean? That comedy isn’t as _difficult_ as drama? I shouldn’t _prepare_ so much?”

“Pine, you’re mad at your therapist, remember, not at me,” Zach sighs. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

There’s a short silence, and then Chris apologizes. “I just kept thinking about what you would say. How it would make you feel. Hell, how it made _me_ feel. Is that what _your_ therapy is like?” he asks.

“When I was younger…sometimes. Yes. But now I go to kink-friendly people only.”

“Oh. That’s sensible.”

“I like to think so.”

“Where do you find them?”

“Recommendations, mostly,” Zach says briefly.

“How’s it going this time round?”

“Slowly. So, have you got that all out of your system, now? Because I’d like to hear you come for me.”

It’s hard to argue with that. “Okay, but can I ask you some more questions later? About sadism and violence?”

Zach sighs uncomfortably. “If you have to. Alright.”

  
***

  
Zach can’t come to LA for his birthday, which makes Chris angry and frustrated, although he doesn’t say anything. But Zach does manage to come almost two weeks later for a flying visit, in and out in a few days, and Chris jokes about feeling like his booty call.

He jokes about it, but he half means it.

Zach reads the journal entries and throws himself on top of Chris afterwards, pulling at his clothes and hair, reveling in the _ows_ and _fucks_ and _ouches_. “You hurt so beautifully,” he says. “With everything in you. It’s like little electric bursts when you make noises like that.”

“You have to come again soon,” Chris says afterwards, when they’re lying in tangled sheets on his bed.

“Jesus, give me more than a five minute refractory period, Christopher.”

“I mean _here_ , to LA. Because _Inishmore_ starts in a couple of weeks and I don’t think I’ll be able to get away until after it’s done.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can do. Comic-con’s coming up, and I’ll be there with Corey, probably Neal. I don’t know if I can get to your play though. We’ll be down in San Diego, so what with travel times, everything else…but at least maybe we could spend the night together.” He says it casually, lightly, and Chris knows immediately that Zach has been thinking about this for a long time and has chosen not to mention it.

“What do you mean, you can’t see my play? You’re coming to my play.”

“It’s just –”

“No. You are coming. I don’t care if you have to pull out of something, you’re seeing this goddamn play and then afterwards you’re going to tell me how fantastic I was, and buy me dinner and get me moderately drunk and fuck me into a stupor.”

Zach is quiet, but then he smiles. “You’ve got it all planned, huh?”

“Damn straight.”

“I’ll see what I can do. It might have to be towards the end of the run. Is that okay?”

“I don’t care when you come, just that you do. I want –” He breaks off, embarrassed.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to be _proud_ of me.”

“Of course I’m proud of you,” Zach says in surprise. “I think you’re amazing.”

 _You think I’m just some movie star_ , Chris wants to say, but Zach is kissing him, so he pushes the thought aside. They only have a few hours left together. It’s not the time to start anything.

  
***

  
Chris spends an excessive amount of time researching, and asking questions of Zach – or at least, that’s what Zach tells him.

“I know you think I ask too many questions, but this is important,” Chris insists. “Just tell me – when you threaten me, is it the actual threat that you enjoy, or the effect it has? Is it more about the control or inducing fear?”

“But Pine, what does that have to do with the character? Or the play?”

“Can you just answer my question? You’re like my primary resource right now, since that therapist totally failed.”

“ _I’m_ your primary resource?”

“Yes,” Chris says firmly.

“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

“Trust me.”

Chris finds that the hardest work is in the casual cruelty of the character; Zach has never been like that, and it’s hard to find the remorselessness Chris thinks the part requires. But he plans, and he takes notes, and he asks questions, and he rehearses, and the director is pleased with him. His co-stars compliment him. His confidence grows.

And in the end, Chris finds, he’s so immersed that he doesn’t think twice about pretending to cut into someone, or to tie them up, or be tied himself. On stage, he is Padraic, and he can be _funny_ in the midst of the violence, and his mind is completely devoid of any sexual connotations these acts might have. He’s pleased with himself, and he thinks he’ll be able to pull it off. His questions to Zach taper off, because he’s found the character, and Padraic is not like Zach, not really. Padraic is empty. Zach, for all his issues and struggles, is filled up with emotions and hopes and fears.

He leaves a note for himself on the dressing room mirror, with three key ideas that he wants to bring to each performance: _Fear from others is power; There’s beauty in the violence; No remorse except for animals._ And each night he reads it before he goes on stage, to remind himself.

But Padraic is still hard work. The play itself is hard work, after they begin. There are injuries, almost nightly; one of them slips in the fake blood, or they have to grab each other surreptitiously sometimes, or cover while someone catches their breath after a painful fall. Every night, the cast end up covered in red goo, which Chris thought he might have issues with, but in the end finds that it doesn’t bother him. The color is just about right, but the consistency is not, and it lacks the scent, the threatening, instantly recognizable smell of fresh blood.

Also, the taste is all wrong, but it’s not like Chris is ever going to admit that to anyone.

Once _Inishmore_ settles, and everything is smoothed out and precise in each performance, Chris has time to feel a familiar ache. He misses Zach like sunshine, feels like a plant left to grow in the dark, leached of all its color. And although the rules help maintain connection, it’s difficult. Chris doesn’t have much time to spend with other people, because they’re at work when he’s at home, and he works each night on _Inishmore_. So he ends up alone more than he would actually prefer. Zach’s parties and events make him jealous, and he tries not to ask about them.

He’s pitied by the _Inishmore_ cast, who know that something is wrong, and it’s not just the effort of playing a violent psychopath for laughs every day. He confides in his co-stars that he misses someone, although he won’t say who, but they are kind and protective. At talkbacks after the shows, he finds it hard to engage. During the day he sits around his apartment until he can get the energy together to dress and go for coffee. At night, he opens up his soul to violence and fear and cruelty, and tries to rein it in enough to keep the audience laughing.

He starts to really understand Zach’s insistence on balance. Chris feels like a wobbly spinning top that’s about to fall down.

One night, after he sprains his wrist slipping over in the blood, he heads back to his dressing room in a foul mood, trying to shake it off. _Happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts._

He shoves open the dressing room door and – and there’s Zach. In the flesh. Looking pale and tired and – it’s _Zach_.

“Oh my God,” Chris says, giving a laugh. “You were here? _Tonight?_ ”

“Yeah,” Zach says, standing up. “It was going to be a surprise.” He gives a wan smile, but all Chris can focus on is his lanky frame rising from the chair.

Chris feels his heart immediately expand like a helium balloon. “And you’re waiting in my dressing room,” he says with a big grin. “Oh my _God_. This is the best night of my –”

“Chris,” Zach says sharply.

“And what do you mean, _going_ to be a surprise? It _is_ a surprise!” Chris can’t stop smiling. “Holy hell, dude, if I’d known –”

“ _Chris_ ,” Zach says again, and Chris finally takes in his expression. Zach looks closed-off.

“What? Oh, yeah. The blood. I’ll go shower, and I have a talkback, but then we can–”

“No,” Zach says. “No. I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.” He’s leaning back against the wall, looking as though his long, delicate legs will give way if he stands up straight.

Chris looks at him, confused. Feels his self-esteem start to crumble, just a little. “Was I – oh, _man_. Did I totally suck? _Fuck_.”

“No,” Zach says dully. “You did not suck. Far from it. Very effective performance.” Chris stares at him. He hasn’t seen Zach look like this – ever.

“Then what’s wrong? I _don’t_ suck and you wish I did?”

Zach shoves his hands in his pockets, looks at the ground. “No. I just wish –” He shrugs. “I wish I hadn’t come. And I think we should break up.”

“You _what_ now?” Chris asks, because he’s pretty sure he misheard. No way would Zach be breaking up with him. Not now, not ever.

“I think,” Zach says clearly, looking at the door behind Chris, “that we should break up.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Chris says automatically. He smiles. “Hey, is this what we’re doing now? Breaking up after each play? Are we jealous of each other or something?” Because he _knows_ Zach is joking. “Sorry I’m so awesome and all, but –”

“Please stop. I mean it.” And when Chris looks at him closely, he can see that Zach is too pale. Too controlled.

“ _What_?” Chris says, and for days afterwards he wishes it hadn’t come out so astonished and so bewildered. “Wait. _What_? Didn’t you – did you hate the play? Was it too, I don’t know, close to home?”

Wow, was _that_ the wrong thing to say. Zach develops two bright spots of red over his cheekbones. “I guess I just didn’t expect to see my boyfriend performing a _parody_ of me on stage, like I’m some huge joke to him.”

The fake blood is starting to get sticky and flaky, and Chris thinks, _I should shower_ , because when he doesn’t get it off quickly enough, it irritates his skin and makes him itch like crazy. _I should walk out of here and shower and when I come back I’ll realize this is just some insane hallucination._

“What are you talking about?” he says. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. A parody?”

Zach is so white that Chris starts to worry about him. “You see me like that? Like _that_?”

“Zach, I –” Chris is beginning to get freaked out. “Seriously, man, sit down before you fall down.” Zach stumbles towards a chair and grabs at it before sitting heavily. He won’t look at Chris. “What the fuck, Zach?” Chris asks gently. “Really, what the fuck?”

Zach drops his face into his hands and Chris can hear him struggle to control his breathing, like he’s doing a yoga thing. “Is that – _that’s_ how you see me? Like some kind of capricious _monster_?”

Chris is so astounded that he can’t reply. “ _No_ ,” he says after a horrible silence. “What? Why would you even think that?”

Zach sits up and glares. “ _That_ , for one thing.” He points at Chris’s note on the mirror.

“That’s just a reminder. For _me_. About what to bring each performance.”

“And where did you get that _from_? From _me_.”

“No, I didn’t. It’s just stuff to remember. Just some key phrases. And you were just one person, one source I looked at.”

“Your _primary_ source,” Zach snarls, standing up again, and Chris feels his own temper flare, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Sure, why not? You’re more familiar with this stuff than most people I know. But that doesn’t mean I think you’re like that. It doesn’t mean I think you’re violent or cruel. I did a lot of research and I distilled it down, and–”

“ _Bullshit_. I’m not stupid, Pine. What you were doing up there – that was pure satire. You were doing your very best impression of _me_. And Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I felt so _incredibly_ disrespected. Oh, no, wait, I do. When you _cut_ me. What was that, a dress rehearsal?” Zach is trembling, his hands clenched. "And, hey? For future reference,” he says, his face distorted, ugly, “my Irish accent is _far_ fucking better than that.”

Chris is beginning to get seriously angry, like he hasn’t in a long time, now that Zach is criticizing his actual performance. And he knows their voices are carrying, that the backstage crew can probably hear them, but he doesn’t care. “Excuse the _absolute fuck_ out of me, but I thought we were _over_ that cutting thing. And if I did anything tonight that reminded you of yourself, it wasn’t intentional, and you’re just reading into it. It’s not _about_ you, Zach. Not _everything_ is about you. I put a lot of work into this, and what I got from you, it was just bits of things. Just bits of information that I thought about, and if they fit, I used them.”

It doesn’t make any difference: Zach is implacable. He gives a short laugh, and then hisses, “Yeah, you used them.  It’s not _just_ bits, though, is it?  It’s bits you gathered together to make into something whole. Bits of _me_. Researching me like a science experiment and projecting that onto your character, because you didn’t have it in yourself. Like when you cut me. But this – this was in front of a whole audience.”

“Fuck you,” Chris says, shocked. “Fuck you, Zach, seriously. You’ve _always_ thought that I’m just some second rate actor. That I couldn’t possibly put my heart and soul into it, not like _you_ , right? So the only way I can approximate anything near authentic is just by copying you? Well, _fuck you_. That’s not what it was. _You’re_ the one projecting.”

“We’re _done_ ,” Zach spits.

They stare at each other, and then Zach brushes past Chris like he’s some obnoxious photographer on the street, rips open the dressing room door and slams it behind him.

\---------

  
Bonus fan art by the awesome [](http://illname-me-joan.livejournal.com/profile)[**illname_me_joan**](http://illname-me-joan.livejournal.com/)  here: [Spoilery Stuff](http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lc4r6lINqs1qf1vy8o1_500.jpg).


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